“Why, not exactly,” replied O'Driscol, fearing that the young man, as we have already hinted, had been indiscreet, and consequently wished to keep him as much out of blame as possible; “not exactly, my dear Mat—hem—my dear Mr. Purcel, but you know that I am rather sharp—a penetratin' fellow in my way, or I would not be of the commission to-day—he seemed merely to drop the expression accidentally only.”
“I pledge my honor to you,” replied the proctor, who at once saw through the hoax that his son had played off upon him, “that the young rascal had no authority from me for mentioning a single syllable about it.”
“Well, but, I trust, my dear Ma—Mr; Purcel, that you are not angry with him, especially for having mentioned it to me at any rate.”
“Why, my dear friend,” said the other, “if the time were come, you are the first man to whom I would disclose the circumstance, but the fact simply is, that it is not ripe yet.”
“Even so; you will have no objection, I trust, to let me know something of the nature of it—even now.”
“It is impossible!” replied the proctor, “quite out of my power; if I breathe a syllable about it, the whole matter must be blown before the proper time, and then—”
“Well, and what then?—proceed.”
“Why, neither you nor I would be one moment safe; and in that case, it is much more prudent that you should not know it—God forbid that I, above all men, should be the person to involve you in risk and danger. Your own ardor and excessive loyalty expose you—to dangers enough, and too many.”
“You promise, however, when the proper time comes, to make me acquainted with it?”
“Certainly, when the proper time comes; and if the thing ripen at all, you shall hear of it.”